


30 Days of Smut - Day 4: Kink - Pegging or Frotting

by casey270



Series: 30 Days of Smut [4]
Category: Ashley Dzerigian (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Frotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashley finds a way to help Tommy avoid a panic attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	30 Days of Smut - Day 4: Kink - Pegging or Frotting

“Nice, Ash,” Tommy says, obviously not looking at her face as the elevator doors close.

“Girl’s gotta do, ya know?” Ashley answers with a wink. “It’s not everyday the boss man offers to take us all out for a party night, right?”

“Anytime you gotta or wanna do, let me kno...”

Tommy thinks his heart stops as suddenly as the elevator does. The jolt just about sends him sprawling, but he manages to catch hold in time to save some dignity. He thinks he loses most of it when he screams, though. 

The lights flicker once, twice, then go out altogether. This time Tommy clamps his mouth shut and holds his breath until he feels the urge to shout pass. He hears someone calling his name, and, in the total darkness, it takes him a second to realize it’s Ashley and not some disembodied voice from a horror movie.

“Tommy? You okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” But he’s anything but okay. His heart is racing and his breathing is short and quick, and wouldn’t this be the perfect damn time for a panic attack to hit? He thinks he can hold it together if this doesn’t go on too long, but he’s not sure. “What’s taking so fucking long to get this thing going?”

“Relax, T-Bone. It’s only been like thirty seconds. I’m sure we’ll hear something as soon as they know there’s a problem.”

And it’s almost like Ashley’s words have powers, because as soon as she finishes, the emergency lights start glowing faintly, giving the elevator car an eerie look. Tommy can go with that, even with the tinny voice that comes out of the speakers asking if everyone is okay. They both seem comforting in some fucked up way. What he can’t go with is how small the car seems and knowing that the mechanics that he was trusting to get them safely to ground level are somehow fucked up, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. 

Ashley laughs a little when she tells the voice that they’re fine. Tommy thinks maybe she should check with him before she says that, but he’s really fucking trying to hold it together, okay? Everybody knows he’s messed up as anything when it comes to small places and high places and just about everything else, and he really, really, fucking _really_ doesn’t want to lose it here, but he can feel it coming on, and he doesn’t think he can stop it.

Tommy thinks the voice is saying something about an estimated time of thirty minutes, and his mind kicks into hyperdrive. All of a sudden, his brain starts ticking off all the ways he can die in less than thirty minutes, and he thinks maybe heart attack should be at the top of the list. He can feel it pounding right up against his ribs, and it’s fast and hard. 

Maybe Ash can feel it too, because she picks that second to turn and look at him, and she really looks. She cocks her head to one side and studies him, for fuck's sake. 

“You okay, Tommy Joe?” Ashley never calls him Tommy Joe unless she’s worried about him. It’s a little thing Tommy noticed right at the beginning. It’s like she uses both names to make sure he’s really listening to her or something. 

Instead of answering, Tommy looks at the floor indicator, which isn’t indicating anything at the moment. Must not be important enough to be on the emergency power circuit, Tommy thinks. “How far up do you think we are?” he asks.

“Not sure, honey,” Ashley answers in an overly calm, soft voice. Tommy hates it when people use that voice with him. It means they think he’s fragile or some shit like that, and he hates feeling breakable. “I got on on the twenty-fifth floor. I don’t know if it had time to get past twenty-four before it stopped.”

Tommy does some quick calculations. “At least twenty-three floors to the lobby level, huh? They’d need at least ten feet for each level, right?” Each word is getting harder and harder to get out, because his breath is getting shorter and shorter. “Probably two sub floors beneath that, too.” He has no idea how much clearance a basement level would need, but he thinks it’s probably more than ten feet. He kinda loses track of where he was though. His mind is too full of pictures of body parts mixed with twisted metal and shards of the mirrored elevator interior to keep the numbers straight in his head.

“That’s a fucking long way down,” he practically whispers, and he knows his eyes are darting all over, looking for something - hell, anything - that might be a way out. 

“Tommy, baby,” he hears Ashley saying, and has he mentioned how much he fucking hates that tone? “Are you gonna be okay? Do you want me to see if they can send somebody down to us? If it’s an emergency, if you really need help, I think they can do that. Paramedics, maybe.”

Tommy looks up and sees that there’s an escape hatch in the elevator’s ceiling. Of course there is. There always is. Just seeing it makes breathing a little easier. But then he thinks about what happens if they have to use it, and picturing having to climb up an open shaft makes his chest tighten up all over again.

He’s about to ask Ashley to go ahead and call to ask for help when he pictures the aftermath. No fucking way he wants everyone to see him as a quivering mess that needs rescuing. He’d never live that down. No, he’s gotta get himself under control before he really loses it.

 _Gotta stop thinking about it, find something else to focus on_ , he thinks. _Gotta find a distraction_.

He feels Ashley’s hand on the front of his jeans just before he hears her ask, “Would this help?”

Tommy draws a surprised breath before he says, “Shit, didn’t mean to say that out loud.” But he has to admit that he’s glad he did. This is helping. This is helping a whole fucking lot.

He feels Ashley’s hand pressing and rubbing, all slow and easy like he likes it. It wanders over the front of his jeans, picking out the shape of his growing erection. Then he feels her palming his balls, and all thoughts of small spaces and sudden falls are gone from his mind. 

He tries to look down to watch what her pretty, little hands are doing, but she’s crowded all up in his space. He doesn’t even know when that happened, but he’s pressed into the corner of the elevator by Ashley’s tiny body, and looking down gives him a view of the most amazing cleavage he’s ever seen. He could get lost in that cleavage for days, and be a very, very happy man.

Ashley squeezes a little then, just enough to really give him something to focus on, and he moans. He’s not ashamed of moaning, It’s better than a fucking scream. 

“Like this, huh?” Ashley asks, and Tommy likes the tone she’s using now much better. The low, sexy sound goes straight to his dick, making it press even harder against the zipper of his jeans. He wants to reach down and drag it right out of his pants, but he really doesn’t want to interfere with what Ash is doing, because this shit feels too good. 

Even the pressure of his pants adds something to the feeling of the moment. He’s gone in for a quick feel before, but he’s never really had sex in an elevator. He does try to push against Ashley’s hand, though. He tries to get the friction he needs. Ash lets him, all the while keeping her hands going in that rub, press, squeeze rhythm that’s short circuiting his brain. 

She adds little mewling sounds when her hands start an amazing circular thing that Tommy thinks would make him drool if she kept it up for very long. He can feel the heel of her hand pressing in a rhythm he knows he would recognize if he could think past what’s happening right now - shit, if he could think at all. 

Instead, he gives up on trying to do anything, but match the magical motions of her hands. She presses and rubs, he presses back, and his dick is stuck very happily in the middle. He feels his muscles straining and his balls growing heavier, and he hisses his need. 

Ash is quick to answer with that fucking sultry voice as she tells him, “That’s it, Tommy. Let it go. Do it for me.”

And just how the hell is he supposed to resist that. He feels the heat build before he feels the warmth spreading across the front of his jeans. He hasn’t come in his pants for longer than he cares to remember - at least not while he was sober. He’s feeling pretty boneless, and if Ash wasn’t still pressing him into the corner, he thinks he’d probably be sitting on the floor right now.

When the elevator car starts up with a jerk, both of them almost end up on the floor. The tinny voice is back on the speaker, telling them that they should be at lobby level in just a minute, and hoping they weren’t too inconvenienced by their little delay. 

Tommy looks down at the spreading wetness on his pants and says, “I don’t think inconvenience is the right word for this.”

Ashley pats his cheek and tells him, “Don’t worry, Tommy. I’ll tell them you were just a little scared. I bet I can get us both comped a whole week for this.”


End file.
